Not Here With Me
by ifonly13
Summary: "I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas."


_**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**_

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><p>The precinct was empty save for her. It was Christmas Eve and most of her team was off for the day, spending the time with their families. There was a short list of people who would be on call if a body dropped between now and tomorrow night. Her name was always at the top. Instead of wandering the quiet apartment alone, Kate decided to come into work, find a cold case to keep her mind off of the fact that she'd be spending the holiday alone.<p>

Again.

To be fair to everyone around her, the past Christmases had been alone out of choice. The holiday reminded her of times before 1999 when everything had changed about that day. This season out of all of them was about family, loved ones. After her mother died, it was just her and her father. Christmases had never quite been the same without Johanna there to laugh at the presents that they all received or to bake the huge cinnamon buns they all devoured for breakfast after opening gifts. The usual feast of ham and mashed potatoes and enough pies to feed most of Manhattan had dwindled to cold cut sandwiches with a bag of Lay's chips between Kate and her father as they sat on the couch in front of the tree that they still got. The same emotion of the day had died with Johanna.

Kate shook her head, trying to focus again on the case file in front of her. She had dug it out of Archives, not too old but definitely a case that had gone cold from lack of leads. The strain of trying to put together the disjointed notes from the previous lead detective was enough to pull Kate out of her misery for the shift. She tried to infuse a bit of holiday spirit into the bullpen, playing one of the generic Pandora stations with Christmas music. She turned it off at lunch, tired of hearing the same renditions of "Jingle Bells" over and over.

She had raided the fridge in the break room for lunch, finding the sandwiches and leftovers that other officers brought in and promptly forgot about. This year, there was a half-eaten container of Chinese food from Esposito along with some lasagna claimed by Johnson. Both became Kate's as she stuck them into the microwave to re-heat. She sat at the tall table in the break room, watching the take-out cartons revolve in the little microwave oven, her chin resting on her palm.

Lasagna and chicken with noodles and whatever vegetables were fried with the Chinese was not her idea of a Christmas Eve lunch. It was better than last year's haul of half a chicken breast and some soggy French fries. Kate found a plastic fork someone was saving in one of the drawers, poked at the Chinese food to make sure it was warm enough, and took the carton back to her desk before returning for the Tupperware with the lasagna in it. A hip-check to the vending machine resulted in a free Sprite.

Instead of the pop holiday music, Kate switched to classical holiday tunes, letting the sounds of The Messiah fill the precinct. It was probably the most class the place had seen since being built. She smiled at the memories of singing the Hallelujah Chorus, off-key, with her parents at the Christmas Eve service at their church.

As she ate, she studied the case. Father and daughter disappeared. Mother called the police when neither returned. Both bodies were found two days later, seemingly unharmed but dead nonetheless. No real leads for anything. The mother had a solid alibi as did the father's ex-wife. She was beginning to see why the case had gone cold and why the lead detective's notes sounded frustrated; probably because he had been.

She still had a good four hours before she would let herself clock out. Kate was too stubborn to put the case back into Archives without at least trying to update some of the information in the file. With her arms around the container of lasagna she had been pushing around the Tupperware, she typed in the mother's name, searching for an updated address. If this was the most she could do for this family, then so be it.

And that really was as far as she got. She found the addresses and phone numbers for the important contacts in the case, wrote in the updates before signing her name with the changes and dating them. It didn't feel like much as she shut the case file but it was something. Kate tossed the empty Chinese carton, washed out the Tupperware and placed it on Johnson's desk, and threw the Sprite can into the blue recycle bin in the break room.

Kate clicked out of Pandora, cutting the Boston Pops off mid-note in their rendition of "Sleigh Ride." Leaving her things up at her desk, she scooped up the case file to bring back down to Archives, taking the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator to creep up to her floor. No one was at the desk down in the basement, so she skirted the metal fence that separated the lobby area from the stacks of banker's boxes holding years of cases. After returning the file to the box where she had found it, she started back out.

Until she reached that one aisle. She knew every inch of that chipped concrete floor, every stain on it. She could probably name all of the files surrounding that one box that had mattered most to her for the longest of times. Kate didn't walk down the aisle, her eyes able to pick out the box without actually seeing it up close. The file that she had obsessed over was still there.

But it was closed. Over. Done. The guy wasn't behind bars, but he was in some state-sponsored cemetery for criminals. She had watched them bury him, needing the proof that he was gone for good.

She smiled down the aisle before going back up the stairs to the fourth floor. Still, there was no one in the bullpen. Kate turned her desk light off, leaving only the harsh fluorescent shining onto the desks as she swung her jacket on.

The elevator felt big without him next to her. She never realized how much she missed him until he was gone.

"Happy holidays, Detective Beckett," called the desk sergeant, waving with the hand not holding onto a large coffee cup.

She waved back as she used her shoulder to open the door out onto the street. Snow had started falling, cold dots on her face as she walked toward the car. The heating was broken and the guys from Maintenance had left for vacation before they could get around to fixing it. Kate huddled into the minimal warmth provided by the wool of her coat, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to work feeling back into their tips before turning the key in the ignition.

There were a few bright points to working until six o'clock on Christmas Eve. Traffic was nearly nonexistent; most people already back in their apartments after working or doing last-minute shopping for gifts. Kate only had to dodge a few tourists near Rockefeller Center, ice skates over their shoulders, on her way from midtown to the apartment.

She let herself in, closing the door behind her with her foot. The only light in the apartment was from the twinkling, soft yellow lights from the tree in the living room. Ornaments from different stages of life hung from the branches, old and new mixing together in a manner that wasn't altogether disjointed. There were a few presents under it, boxes and bags with tissue paper sticking out of the tops. Kate took a moment to look at the image, the snow falling outside the window just to the left of the tree. It looked like something on a postcard. He would have laughed if she had made that comment out loud.

Just thinking of his response had her shaking her head as she hung her jacket up in the closet, kicking her shoes off. She hooked the heels on her fingers, swinging them slowly as she walked into the bedroom to drop them into the closet. Next off were the jeans she had worn in knowing that no one would be looking for her to dress professionally on the night before a holiday. Kate tossed the black sweater into the laundry pile.

She ran the water in the tub, edging on hotter than usual so that when the basin finally filled, it would be the right temperature. She avoided looking in the mirror, knowing that the face reflected back at her would look haggard and show the sleepless nights. Better to not look into the mirror.

The bath lasted until the water turned chilly around her. She ditched the robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door in order to button up one of his deep green dress shirts, pulling the fabric up to see if it still smelled like him. Ink, old books, and the faintest scent of sandalwood mixed with the raspberry of her shampoo from her still-damp hair. She added black leggings for warmth, going barefoot back out into the living room.

Now that she was back in the empty apartment, she didn't feel like eating. Still, Kate found a bag of Ritz crackers in one of the cupboards. She wasn't in the mood for the army of Christmas cookies that she had baked a few nights ago, up until well past midnight with flour creating white splotches on her clothes and sticking in her hair. The careful measurement of ingredients and the over-the-top decoration of the result of hours of baking had taken her mind off of his absence.

It felt strange to sit on the couch alone, the bag of crackers in one hand as she absent-mindedly munched on them. The tree's lights tickled her bare feet, making them appear tan against the chocolate brown of the couch. She had painted her toenails last night, a bright holiday red. The little sparkles in the polish caught the light from the tree and Kate wiggled her toes, experimenting with how the different angles made the polish look darker or lighter.

Goodness, she must really miss him to be so entertained by her own toes.

"Just call his phone, Kate," she muttered to herself as she crunched onto another cracker. She was getting down to the end of the package having reached into the plastic without really thinking about the motions.

But she didn't get up from the couch. She stayed curled into the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest, an arm wrapped around her shins as she rested her chin on the top of her knee. Kate wasn't sure if it was because she was comfortable or if it was because she didn't want to hear his voice and know he wouldn't be here in the apartment with her.

He wouldn't answer. But just hearing the voicemail message might be enough to ease the tight band around her heart that was squeezing to the point of pain. With the last cracker in her hand, the empty plastic with the crumbs at the bottom in the other, Kate unfolded herself from the cushions of the couch. She threw away the wrapper, popped the thin wafer into her mouth.

She found her phone in the pocket of her jacket, holding it and staring at the screen. Is it worth the chance of his voice only tightening the vise around her heart instead of loosening it so she could breathe easily?

Before she could stop herself, Kate found his number on her speed-dial list and held it down. She watched his picture spring up on the screen as the phones connected. Before the voicemail picked up, Kate switched the phone to speakerphone, wanting his voice to fill the apartment like it used to.

"Hello, my heart."

Kate jumped, having to catch the phone before it fell to the ground. "Castle?"

He sounded as surprised as she did. "Yes?"

She sank back onto the couch, sitting with her legs crossed as she tugged one of the throw pillows into her lap to hug to her chest. "You're supposed to be at a signing. What are you doing on your phone?"

'What are you doing, Katherine Beckett? Complaining because he actually answered?' she scolded herself as she waited for his explanation.

"We're taking a break. Giving the fangirls a chance to catch their breath. You should understand," he said with a laugh.

Kate let her head fall back against the couch, smiling up at the ceiling. Figures he would have learned about just how deep her fangirl tendencies ran. She wondered who had spilled the secret and found herself pointing the finger at her father. "Of course. Wouldn't want too many of them fainting at your feet."

"That just makes a scene. Better to give them a few minutes to relax before they're re-exposed to me." His voice softened and Kate could almost see him smile. "I miss you."

She chewed on the knuckle of her pointer finger. "I'll have a blue Christmas without you, I'll be so blue just thinking about you." His laugh was a countermelody as she continued, smiling. "Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree, won't be the same, dear, if you're not here with me."

"I knew you knew how to sing, Kate."

"You can sing too," she commented.

Kate was still taken by surprise when he spoke. "I'll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me," traveled through the phone even as she heard the elevator announce its arrival on the floor.

She was off the couch, skidding across the hardwood as she dropped the phone on the cushions. When she pulled the door open and looked down the hallway, Castle was putting his own phone into the pocket of his coat.

"Where's my mistletoe?" he asked with a grin.

He barely managed to get his hand free before Kate launched herself into his arms. Castle dropped his bag, spinning her around once, his face in the space between her shoulder and neck, smelling her clean skin before setting her down. He kept her tucked against his side, though, for the short walk back to the apartment after picking up the abandoned luggage.

She gave him a little nudge with her elbow once they closed the door, tossing the leather suitcase against the wall. "Look up."

Above the doorway, hanging from a little red ribbon, was a single sprig of mistletoe.

"I planned," Kate got out before he pulled her closer, his hands around her elbows. His lips were gentle as they settled over hers for a brief kiss to follow tradition.

"What're you doing here?" she asked, stepping back as he shrugged out of his jacket. Castle raised a brow and Kate waved him off. "Not that I'm complaining. At all. Just… wondering."

"I cancelled the other signings. Who's going to come out on Christmas Eve to see some cut-rate novelist?" he remarked, giving her hand a tug over toward the couch. "You set up the tree."

Kate took the lead this time, continuing the path toward the tree. "Yeah. It felt right. I also baked enough cookies to feed the entire precinct and still have leftovers." He was still walking slowly behind her so she turned to face him. "I tried to keep my mind off of you not being here."

"And how'd that work?"

Her sheepish smile told him it didn't go over so well. He sat against the coffee table, his feet stretching out so they brushed the skirt under the tree. She sat next to him, his arm coming around her shoulders.

"You're wearing my shirt."

She placed her head on his shoulder. "Would it be cheesy if I said it was because it smelled like you?"

The kiss on her forehead had her smiling. "Cheesy and lovely all at once."

They sat together, looking at the lights on the tree as they reflected off some of the metallic ornaments, shining onto the walls and ceiling.

"I'm glad you're home, Castle."

"Me too, Kate. We need to get to bed or Santa won't come," he said with far too much glee for a grown adult. He tugged her to her feet behind him.

They left the Christmas tree lit, going into the bedroom. Castle changed into his pajamas, bouncing onto the bed where Kate already sat. As he pulled her back against him, he placed a kiss on her neck.

"Kate, you're my favorite present."

She twisted to capture his lips in a last kiss. "Until you see what I got you for Christmas."

"We'll see," he murmured against her shoulder.

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><p><em>AN: Happy holidays to the sweetest, most extraordinary sidekick I could ask for! This one is all yours._


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